


Feeling Waspish

by LittlebutFiery



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Oblivious Ineffable Husbands, Rated T for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 21:09:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20103664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittlebutFiery/pseuds/LittlebutFiery
Summary: While out for a walk, Crowley and Aziraphale come across anti-LGBTQ protestors trying to ruin two brides’ wedding. They have different approaches to solving the problem.





	Feeling Waspish

It was a peaceful Tuesday afternoon when Crowley and Aziraphale went for a walk around Soho. Tuesday had been a mutually agreed-upon day for their walks[1], and this one was quite unseasonably nice. The rain clouds that had hung over London had cleared, offering a tantalizing bit of sunshine and a rainbow for good measure.

The walk in itself wasn’t out of the norm, nor was the sunshine, really. Many of the families and joggers were the ones they saw every week in Soho Square Park. All in all, it was looking like yet another uneventful saunter around town, much to Crowley’s dismay. He was glaring resolutely at his shoes as they walked, grumbling about the insanity of going for a walk when one owned a perfectly good car.

For his part, Aziraphale seemed more than pleased to have company, though he said little, instead humming cheerfully. Whatever tune was stuck in his head was far beyond the realms of Crowley’s preferred music, and he had just opened his mouth to ask Aziraphale to stop when the angel nudged him in the side.

“What?” Crowley snapped. “If you want to stop to teach the damn nightingales another hymn I’ll be sick.”

“Look over there,” Aziraphale said instead, nodding in the direction he was looking.

Crowley glanced over at what Aziraphale had indicated. At a little gazebo in the center of the park stood two young women, both in dainty white dresses. A small crowd was standing around them.

“Precious,” Crowley rolled his eyes. “It would be a real shame if it started to rain.”

He was nearly taken aback by the sharp look Aziraphale shot him. “You wouldn’t.”

Crowley certainly would, and he knew that Aziraphale knew that. But something about the almost petulant look on the angel’s face made him sigh and concede, “Fine. I won’t.”

Instead of the pleased little hum he’d come to expect — certainly not crave, no, certainly not — from Aziraphale, Crowley heard an odd, confused sound.

Again, he turned to follow the angel’s gaze. Not far from the gazebo stood another crowd. While the crowd by the two women looked happy, dressed to the nines with flowers and cameras in their hands, the other had their hands full of cardboard signs, all dressed in neon t-shirts reading “GOD HATES BENDERS.”

“Charming,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale’s frown was deeper and fiercer than any Crowley could recall from recent memory. Crowley cast another glance at the wedding; the brides seemed oblivious to the protestors. “At least the blushing brides haven’t seemed to...Aziraphale?”

“The Almighty would never condone such a disgraceful display of hate!” Aziraphale huffed.

“I think you’ll find a lot of humans don’t much care. Come on, I’m supposed to be the one that makes scenes. Let’s get lunch, I think that crepe place…”

Crowley had turned away from Aziraphale as he spoke, and when he glanced back, Aziraphale was gone.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley hissed at the retreating form of the angel, who was storming towards the protestors with all the intimidation and gravity of an angry Pomeranian.

Aziraphale might have the power to bend reality, as Crowley well knew, but he certainly didn’t look like it. He was practically asking to cause a scene, and if someone said something cross to Aziraphale, well...Crowley wasn’t sure how he’d react.

With much cursing and complaining, he headed after the angel.

The bulk of the protestors were chanting some inane nonsense, as most hate protestors are wont to do. The man who was clearly their leader, due to the fact he held the largest and most offensive sign, was in a shouting match with a passerby, who conceded the debate with two middle fingers as she jogged off.

Crowley made to grab Aziraphale’s collar and yank him away from the group when Aziraphale dodged his grip and demanded of the group’s leader, “What in Heaven’s name do you think you’re doing?”

The man turned to face Aziraphale with nothing short of murder in his eyes, and Crowley became keenly aware of the fact there was no way this could end well, or at least, end well without use of a demonic miracle Aziraphale would scold him for.

“Oh, look, another _noble bystander _trying to protect the dykes,” the leader sneered. “You got a problem, pal?”

Crowley felt his entire body tense as he saw the man curl one hand into a fist. Aziraphale seemed to not notice, scowling instead, “Yes, I do! How could you possibly assume that this is what God wants? She is a proponent of _love_, not hate!”

Neither the angel nor demon had ever seen a human’s face go quite as red quite as fast as the protestor’s did, a vein popping out in his forehead. He snarled, “The _fuck _did you just say?”

“You heard very well what I said!” Aziraphale snapped back. “The Almighty would never condone something like this.”

“I don’t like how you’re talking,” the man growled, taking a step closer to Aziraphale and looming over him. “First you say God’s a fucking woman, and now it sounds almost like you think you know what God’s thinking. I don’t like that.”

“I would never presume!” Aziraphale retorted. “I just cannot fathom why you would think the Good Book condones hatred like this!”

“You ever read it, fairy boy?” the man sneered. “Man shall not lie with man, did you miss that whole bit?”

Aziraphale huffed. “I have never understood the fascination with gender! Why on earth do you think God cares about gender when she didn’t bother to assign that nonsense to angels?”

Crowley was impressed (though he’d never admit it aloud) to see the protestor’s face turn an even brighter scarlet.

Then a number of things happened at once.

Aziraphale couldn’t resist the urge to add, “Honestly, I’d say you’re acting more like Satan’s cronies than God’s.”

The protestor surpassed scarlet, inventing an entirely new color. With one hand, he grabbed Aziraphale’s lapel, and with the other, began to raise a punch.

Both angel and demon’s eyes grew wide as time seemed to slow down. Immortal beings though they were, a fist to the face was still a fist to the face and would hurt. Aziraphale knew he would rather avoid the experience, and Crowley knew he’d rather die than just watch the angel get hurt.

That said, Crowley knew _he _would be in a world of hurt if he came up with a solution that was an overt miracle.

Aziraphale couldn’t possibly fault him for a _covert _miracle, though, could he?

As the man pulled his arm back as far as it would go, Crowley yelled, “What the devil is that?”

Both Aziraphale and the man looked to where Crowley was pointing, the foliage of a nearby tree. A loud, angry buzzing filled the air as a cloud of insects descended from the tree, heading straight towards the protestors.

“Those look like warrior wasps,” Crowley observed blithely. “Heard those stings hurt like the devil.”

The man hesitated for only a moment before letting go of Aziraphale and bolting off, his compatriots following close behind. One of them screeched, “Get your keys! Get your keys! We gotta get to the car!”

Crowley smirked as he watched the man fumble in his pocket for keys the demon knew weren’t there[2].

Even Aziraphale couldn’t quite suppress a smile as they watched the protestors scramble off and scatter, utterly defeated. He cleared his throat and feigned disapproval as he scolded, “I had it under control.”

“Sure you did,” Crowley nodded. “About to get socked. Very under control.”

“Um, excuse me?”

Both angel and demon jumped, startled. They turned to see a young woman standing close by. She was in a formal purple dress, a bouquet in one hand and a phone in the other.

“Yeah?” Crowley demanded.

“What can we do for you, dear?” Aziraphale asked, much more pleasantly.

“I’m Lily. You, uh, told those wankers to sod off?” the woman asked.

“More or less,” Crowley shrugged.

“The wasps did most of the work,” Aziraphale added.

Lily nodded. “Thanks. Not like you control the wasps or anything. But thanks for standing up to them. I didn’t want to make a scene and ruin my sister’s big day, but I would’ve loved to give them a piece of my mind.”

“Your sister?” Aziraphale asked.

She nodded at the two brides still taking photos at the gazebo. “My big sis Meredith just got married today. Never seen her happier than when she’s with Chelsea. I wish everyone could see it that way.”

“People seem to hate what they don’t understand,” Aziraphale offered kindly. “From what I know, dear, God would want nothing but the best for your sister, no matter what anyone else may say.”

“Seems like it, doesn’t it?” Lily nodded. “I mean, what else are the odds some crazy bugs scare off the assholes trying to ruin their day?”

Crowley snorted with laughter, and Aziraphale tried to suppress a smile. Lily went on, “Meredith and Chelsea have been real nervous about having a public wedding and being more out. Those protestors would’ve ruined their day. So, thanks. I wish there was some way we could repay you.”

“You needn’t worry about that,” Aziraphale smiled. “Good things are their own reward.”

“Oh, I know!” Lily lit up. “You can come to the reception!”

“Pardon?” Aziraphale asked.

“I think they’d be so happy to have another couple like them at the reception!” Lily exclaimed. “You have to come!”

Aziraphale flushed red and Crowley managed, his own cheeks pink, “We couldn’t possibly impose.”

“It’s not imposing. I insist!” the woman said. “It’s a buffet, so there’ll be plenty of food.”

Aziraphale perked up at the mention of food, turning to Crowley with a pleading look. The demon sighed. “Fine, fine. We’ll stay for a bite and a chat and then we’ll see ourselves out.”

The girl beamed. “Thank you! That makes me so happy. It’s like being able to introduce them to their guardian angels.”

“I’m not sure I’d go _that_far,” Crowley chuckled. He nudged Aziraphale. “Well, angel, sounds like we need to go change. It’s not like we can just conjure up formalwear.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. Lily glanced over her shoulder, saw the photos were wrapping up, and said quickly, “It’s at Cakes & Bubbles at 4! See you then!”

Crowley and Aziraphale watched her run back over to the wedding party. Aziraphale said, “She’s charming.”

“Guardian angels, huh?” Crowley said.

“It seems you’re on the up-and-up, Crowley,” Aziraphale teased. “Perhaps we’ll make something of you yet.”

“Nah,” Crowley shook his head. “You can be the guardian angel. Guardian demon, though...that I can deal with.”

1 Aziraphale was terribly busy on weekends ensuring minor bouts of good luck for passersby, and Crowley was right booked on Mondays, ruining the start to the workweek for those who’d had unusual luck over the weekend.[return to text]

2 He wasn’t sure _where _they were, entirely, beyond “not in his pockets.” He was fairly confident they were still in the United Kingdom. At least...60% confident.[return to text]


End file.
